


Head Tied In Knots

by questceque_cest



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Bachelorette Party, Comeplay, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questceque_cest/pseuds/questceque_cest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Going to a strip club for Rachel's bachelorette party is the last thing Blaine wants, only second to falling in love with one of the dancers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Tied In Knots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LogicalNonsense92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalNonsense92/gifts).



> Happy Birthday <3\. Never again <3
> 
> Loosely based on [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugGNMKkcRfQ) fanvid.

“Oh, how about these ones, Rachel? I think you would pull them off spectacularly,” Blaine teased, holding out a wooden hanger displaying gold lamé pants limply folded over the bar. 

Rachel scrunched her face and shook her head, furiously. “Blaine, _focus_. Just because I’ve opted to have a more ‘traditional’ bachelorette party doesn’t mean it gives you the right to dress me up and flaunt me as some cheap _prostitute_.” 

Blaine mock gasped and returned the hanger to the rack. He pulled her into a side hug and led her out of the store and onto the bustling street. “Come on, Rachel, stop stressing. There are no illusions to your classiness, all your guests are fully aware of how demure Rachel Berry can be. Or,” he stopped, coyly smiling, “should I say Rachel St. James?” 

“ _Blaine_ ,” Rachel squealed, hugging his arm, “you know I’m keeping my surname purely for stage purposes.” She bit her lip and look up at him through thick eyelashes. “But, Rachel St. James sounds utterly intoxicating. Or, Rachel Berry-St. James? Oh, or Jesse Berry!” 

“You’re crazy, I hope you know that. I don’t know _what_ Jesse is thinking by marrying you,” Blaine said, nudging the girl with his shoulder. 

Rachel scoffed, shoving him back. “He is the luckiest man in all of America, thank you very much. Oh, before I forget,” she said, her tone changing, “after many back-and-forth strongly worded phone calls with the manager, I was able to convince Remington’s to let you and Kurt attend my bachelorette party. I cannot fathom _why_ men weren’t allowed in in the first place, but they have never argued with Rachel Berry before.” 

Blaine rolled his eyes, linking his arm around Rachel’s. “Gee, thanks, Rach. Inviting your only two single, gay friends to your all female party? That isn’t going to be uncomfortable in the least.” 

“But, half-naked guys, Blaine. Are you missing the bigger picture here?” Rachel snorted. She pulled his wrist towards a gelato parlour, opening the door and gesturing for him to enter. “Don’t worry, it won’t be that bad. Besides, you, me, and Kurt have been best friends since _preschool_. I need you two there to ogle attractive men with me before I am whisked into married life.” 

“Fine,” he huffed. “Who else is coming, anyway?” Blaine asked, stepping up the counter and running his finger along the glass guard over the various flavours of gelato. 

“Well, it will be me, obviously. Santana, Brittany, and Mercedes are coming too. Oh, do you know Quinn and Tina? They’re two girls from the theatre that are attending. Well, I believe Tina canceled, actually, but Quinn will be there.” Rachel said, brow furrowed as she listed off guests on her fingertips. She turned to the server and grinned brightly. “Yes, I’ll have a scoop of soy strawberry please. And, this guy here will have cappuccino,” she said, pointing her thumb at Blaine. 

The two accepted their scoops of gelato and headed outside to the patio. Blaine took a seat and sighed before digging his spoon into the frozen dessert. “I don’t think I’ve met Quinn or Tina. At least it’ll be nice seeing Mercedes and Brittany. Santana, I’m not so sure,” he rolled his eyes. 

Rachel giggled as she dragged the spoon from her mouth. “Yes, well, I love her _and_ she’s a bridesmaid, so obviously she’s coming. Plus, you know how much of a riot she is at parties. Don’t worry, Blaine,” she reassured, rubbing his forearm, “just because you’re one of the only guys there who isn’t taking off their clothes doesn’t mean you won’t have an excellent time. Besides, you love me too much not to attend.” 

“I suppose,” he replied, coyly. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I still cannot believe you’re getting _married_ , Rachel. And, to your high school sweetheart, too. It’s so romantic.” 

Rachel sighed sweetly before flashing him a dazzling smile. “Isn’t it? Truth be told, I always thought _you_ would be married first. You and Sebastian were practically inseparable throughout high school.” 

Groaning, Blaine brought another scoop of gelato to his lips. “Yeah, please don’t remind me about that travesty.” He set down the cup and ran his fingers through his slick hair. “Sometimes I feel like it isn’t going to happen to me.” 

Cooing, Rachel took his hand in hers and squeezed. “You mustn’t give up hope, Blaine Anderson. I’ve found my prince and surely you’ll find yours too.” 

Squeezing back, Blaine rubbed his thumb over the length of her fingers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

\---

 

“You ready for this?” Kurt asked as he and Blaine strode up towards the front doors of Remington’s. 

Blaine scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I don’t know why I’m so hesitant. I mean, this place has men in g-strings, Kurt.” 

“Oh, I’m fully aware,” Kurt replied, winking. “You’re just jealous that I’m going to receive more lap dances than you tonight.” 

“I’m pretty sure Rachel will be the recipient of the majority of lap dances this evening. Speaking of which,” Blaine trailed off, nodding his head towards the entrance. 

Leaning against the brass doors of the club was a gaggle of women -- extremely intoxicated women -- with Rachel in the centre. She noticed the two men approaching and screamed, throwing out her arms. 

“My boys! I’m so glad you’re here!” Rachel shrieked, stumbling forward. Kurt caught her in his arms before she toppled over face first. 

“Hello, Mrs. St. James. And why are we this drunk already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow to the group of women 

“Pre-drinking, bitch,” Santana exclaimed, throwing her hand in the air. 

Blaine stifled a snigger as he raked his eyes over them. His gaze landed on a blonde with shoulder length hair who was looking amused and bemused simultaneously. “Hi, I’m Blaine and this is Kurt,” he said, pointing to the man who was attempting to stabilize the tipsy Rachel. “I don’t believe we’ve met?” 

“I’m Quinn, a friend from work” she smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m the completely sobre DD.” 

“Quinn is so amazing,” Mercedes slurred, throwing her arm over the girl’s shoulder. 

“Yes, that’s great, ‘Cedes. I think we should probably go inside now. I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m looking particularly forward to watching some gyrating men,” Kurt said, leading Rachel towards the door. 

“Pfft, I’m not,” Santana sneered, linking her arm around Brittany, “but you only live once, so who the fuck cares? Onto the strippers,” she proclaimed, opening the door and slinking inside. 

Blaine’s eyes widened at Kurt before he followed the group inside. The strip club was surprisingly not as grungy as he expected. Most of the gay clubs he’s attended haven’t been the most chic, or sanitary. Remington’s, however, had a pretty decent atmosphere. The group took their seats at a table located in front of the stage. 

Brittany pulled from her purse a golden tiara and pink, satin sash with _Bride To Be_ scrolled in cursive and adorned with gold stars. She placed the tiara upon Rachel’s head and wrapped the sash around her body. 

“You’re the wedding princess,” Brittany said, clapping her hands together. Rachel beamed, adjusting the crown on her hair. 

“I’m so glad I decided to go this party route, I can’t--” 

Rachel was cut off as a voice boomed through the club via loudspeaker. 

“ _Ladies, ladies, ladies! Welcome to Remington’s, where abs aren’t the only thing that’s as hard as steel. How are we all doing this evening_?” the DJ crooned through his microphone. 

The club burst into a scream of cheers, catcalls and whistles. Blaine grimaced as Mercedes screeched in his one ear, Kurt joining her in the other. 

“ _Remember, ladies, the faster you drop cash, the faster our men will drop their thongs. There’s only a thin layer of fabric keeping you from the good stuff, so if you wanna see skin, we’ve got to see that green_.” 

“Oh, God,” Blaine groaned, face resting in his palm. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as Kurt was clapping and hollering to his left. 

“ _You’re in for a special treat tonight, ladies. A sexy, tasty, chocolatey treat. This delicious morsel is just waiting to be unwrapped by you. Who here would like to experience a creamy mouthful_?” 

“Me me me me _me_ ,” Rachel called, waving her arms furiously in the air. “I don’t even care that I’m vegan!” 

“ _Let’s give our next boy a big, thick, Remington’s welcome. Ladies, here’s White Chocolate!_ ” 

The lights in the club dimmed, the bass from the music thumping and reverberating through Blaine’s chest. He squinted as spotlights shone on the stage, the glittery, gold curtain flying open. A man strutted onto the stage, walking in step to the music. Women began shrieking as the lights focused on the stripper. 

“Oh sweet Jesus, I’ve never had a bigger craving for chocolate before in my _life_ ,” Kurt breathed in Blaine’s ear as he took in the sight of the man on stage, his tanned skin looking gorgeous under the stage lights and his blond hair reflecting a beautiful sheen. 

Blaine’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raised, as the stripper took centre stage, dancing to the music blasting throughout the club. Blaine felt the inside of his mouth run dry and he immediately began to fidget his hands in his lap as he stared, transfixed, at the gorgeous Adonis gyrating and thrusting in his face. 

Strippers weren’t supposed to make Blaine feel this way, strippers were people _selling their bodies for money_. It was uncouth. 

Still. 

“White Chocolate” was absolutely stunning with defined muscles that were sculpted _just_ to cause Blaine discomfort in his pants. 

He cleared his throat, loosening the bowtie around his neck to expose his hot and flushed skin to the air. 

“I’m going to the bar,” Blaine murmured, scraping back his chair. No one in the wedding party was paying much attention anyway, they were all enraptured with “White Chocolate”’s red, sparkly thong and how it was currently being shoved in Rachel’s face. 

Blaine sat at the bar and ordered a double gin and tonic (he _really_ needed his blood alcohol level to be elevated this evening) and watched the male stripper give Rachel an oddly endearing lap dance. He rolled his eyes as the girls (and Kurt) leaned over, waving dollar bills in front of the dancer and trying to shove them into his thong. 

The stripper looked up and saw Blaine staring at him from across the room. Slowly, “White Chocolate” ground down onto Rachel’s lap, maintaining eye contact with Blaine. He pulled his lip between his teeth and smiled a coy, boyish grin. 

“Fuck,” Blaine hissed, shifting on the bar stool. He took a rather large gulp of his drink, silently praying for the song to change or for the stripper’s intermission or whatever they had here at a strip club. He breathed a sigh of relief as after a couple more seconds, the song changed and the stripper sat up from Rachel’s lap (much to her chagrin). He exited off stage, leaving Blaine to slouch over the bar and finish his drink. 

He raised the glass to his lips, mouth parted to take in the last sip of his gin and tonic, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Blaine sighed, expecting to see one of his friends ask about his absence. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, swiveling on his stool. Blaine blanched when he turned around and came face to face with the stripper from before. “Oh,” he whispered, his grip tightening around the glass, “sorry, I thought you were my friend.” 

At least the guy was fully clothed this time. 

The man’s face broke out into a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “I could be your friend if you let me. I just wanted to come say hi ‘cause they very rarely let guys into Remington’s.” 

Blaine straightened in his seat. “Yes, well the girl you were just giving a, er, lap dance to is my best friend and she’s getting married, so she begged your owner to let me and the other guy over there inside. She can be quite persistent.” 

“She’s sweet, though. One of the nicest girls I’ve ever grinded on. I’m Sam, by the way,” he beamed, holding out his hand. 

“Uh,” Blaine stuttered, looking down at Sam’s hand. Cautiously, he took the other man’s hand in his own and smiled, being polite. “My name is Blaine.” He felt his chest tighten just a tiny bit when Sam squeezed his hand mid-handshake. 

“Blaine, huh? You look a lot different than your picture. How is it training with Arcanine? Or are you strictly using Magmar nowadays?” Sam asked, his eyes sparkling. 

Blaine released his grip, pulling his hand to his lap. His lips twitched as he arched his eyebrow. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?” 

Sam laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Dude, did you never get involved with Pokemon as a kid? One of the gym leaders is named Blaine and that was the first thing I thought of when you introduced yourself and wow, this is super nerdy of me so I’m going to shut up now.” He looked down at Blaine, half with embarrassment, half with remorse. 

Huh. This stripper, ( _Sam_ , Blaine amended), was seemingly trying to hit on him by using a Pokemon reference? How strangely bizarre. But, pretty cute. Blaine chuckled, bewildered. 

“No, I can’t say that I was into it. I favoured theatre as a child. But, I can say that you are the first person in my life to have ever used that reference, so kudos, Sam.” He lifted his glass into the air before swallowing the last sip. 

Sam laughed nervously and motioned for the stool next to Blaine. “Would it be okay if I bought you a drink? I’m technically not working anymore, so I’m not trying to flirt with you for tips or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Well, I wasn’t worried about that,” Blaine said, crinkling his nose, “but sure, why not. I’m drinking double gin and tonic.” 

“Sounds good,” Sam said, taking a seat. He motioned for the bartender and leaned on his palm. “You sure your friends won’t miss you too much?”

Blaine turned his back to look at the table and scoffed at Brittany and Santana buried deep in each other’s mouths and Kurt and Mercedes knocking down shots all while Quinn filmed Rachel receiving _another_ lap dance from a dancer. “I think they can manage,” he chuckled. 

Sam took Blaine’s drink from the bartender and slid it across the counter. He ordered a beer for himself and clinked it against Blaine’s glass. “A toast to Rachel?” 

Rolling his eyes fondly, Blaine took a long sip of his third drink. “Cheers.” 

 

\---

 

The world was swirling. Blaine felt nauseous and dizzy and so very lightheaded as he stumbled into a bedroom, flopping onto the soft bedding in front of him. He groaned as someone fell on top of him and began sucking the skin of his neck, this person’s hands pulling Blaine’s cardigan from his slacks. He rolled over and stared into the unfocused eyes of Sam the stripper, who only flashed his teeth in a smile. 

“I never do this,” Sam slurred, trailing his hands along Blaine’s shoulders, “but you’re so perfect, Blaine. I have to.” He captured Blaine’s mouth with his, Sam’s eyes fluttering shut at the contact. 

Blaine was so, so drunk. He almost never went home with strange men, let alone men who take off their clothes for a living. He vaguely remembered Sam and him fumbling into a cab and some blonde girl paying the fare. He _definitely_ remembered a lot of touching in the ride to his house. No, this wasn’t his house. Must be Sam’s. 

As much as Blaine was hesitant ( _seriously, Blaine, get over it. This guy is attractive_ ), he knew he needed this. Feeling wanted, desired all over again was thrilling. 

Blaine hummed against Sam’s mouth, pulling his bottom lip gently between his teeth. “Speak for yourself, _you’re_ the perfect one. You don’t know the effect you have on men.” 

Sam snorted, reaching his hand between their bodies to cup Blaine’s growing erection against his pants. “Pretty sure I do, dude.” 

A moan escaped Blaine’s lips as he leaned into Sam’s touch, thrusting his hips upwards and arching his back for more. He gasped as Sam pulled down the zipper of Blaine’s pants and slid his hand under the band of Blaine’s briefs. 

“Sam,” Blaine breathed, grabbing the other man’s ass, pulling him closer to his body. “Please.” 

Blaine closed his eyes when he felt Sam pulling off his pants, moving to unbutton his cardigan in a manner that was desperate, but still gentle. Sam fumbled off Blaine’s bowtie and dress shirt, tossing them to the floor below. When Blaine slowly opened his eyes, he took in a sharp breath as he stared down at his naked form with Sam’s equally naked form hovering over his body. 

Sam began kissing Blaine again, slowly and languidly, before reaching into the drawer next to him and pulling out a bottle of lube and a package of condoms. He threaded his fingers through Blaine’s hair, pulling their faces as tightly as possible before he snapped open the bottle with a _snick_. 

“Can I?” Sam asked, voice hoarse and husky. He pulled back, squeezing drops of lube onto his fingertips. 

Blaine sat on his elbows, staring at his skin, spotted red with arousal and heat, against Sam’s tanned flesh. Between them, he glanced at their cocks, flushed dark and slick with precome. Blaine licked his lips and locked eyes with Sam; earnest and sweet Sam. 

Nodding, he shifted up the bed, tugging Sam across the sheets and pinning him against the headboard. Blaine swiped the lube from Sam’s fingers onto his own, smearing the liquid across his skin. Slowly, he straddled Sam’s thighs and pushed two of his fingers through his hole, crooking them slightly. 

Gasping, Blaine lurched forward, crashing his mouth against Sam’s as he fingered himself. Sam whined against his lips, steadying Blaine over his body. 

“Please,” Sam whispered, sliding his hips against the bed. 

Blaine groaned, holding his lip firmly between his teeth as he inserted a third finger. He stretched and scissored, fueled by Sam’s incessant pants in his ear as he fucked himself on his own fingers. He reached for the bottle of lube and motioned for Sam to open his palm. Once he complied, Blaine squeezed a fair amount in Sam’s hand. With his free hand, Sam ripped open the condom foil with his teeth and rolled the latex down his cock. He slicked up his erection with the lube, staring up at Blaine’s still unfocused eyes. 

“You ready?” Sam asked, holding Blaine’s hips and kneading his thumbs against the bone. 

“So ready,” Blaine moaned, lowering himself onto Sam’s cock. 

Sam grunted as Blaine enveloped his erection, feeling so hot and _tight_ and perfect around him. Blaine sunk on, adjusting himself as Sam bottomed out inside of him. He quirked his lips into a smile, leaning his forehead against Sam’s. Blaine could feel the burn in his thighs already, but his raised and lowered himself again, rolling his hips forward tauntingly slowly. 

“Blaine, harder,” Sam pleased, lifting the other man’s hips between his hands. 

Blaine smirked, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders and beginning a steady pace. Sam met with Blaine’s rhythm, thrusting harder and harder upwards. He felt so dizzy and lightheaded, the alcohol clouding his mind. He felt so numb and warm, every sense dull. Blaine knew that Sam was getting close, his movements more erratic and his breathing ragged, mouthing nonsensical words into Blaine’s shoulder. 

“Come for me, Sam,” Blaine whispered in Sam’s ear, his breath warm and tickling. 

With a stutter of his hips, Sam thrust deep into Blaine, coming hard and fast. Sam’s chest heaved as he drew Blaine against his body, his cock spurting inside Blaine. Sam mouthed along Blaine’s neck and shoulder, exhaling sharply and trailing his nails down Blaine’s back. He ran his hands along Blaine’s ass, cupping and squeezing between his fingers. 

Blaine groaned as Sam lifted him from his softening cock and pulled Blaine to his knees, his erection face to face with Sam’s lips. Sam moved his mouth slowly down Blaine’s cock, teasingly swiping the tip of his tongue along the ridge. He parted his mouth slightly, guiding Blaine past his lips into the wet heat of his mouth. Holding onto Sam’s shoulders, Blaine gently thrust his dick into Sam, moaning when Sam began sucking on the skin. Taking Blaine deeper and deeper into his mouth, Sam swallowed around him feeling the head of Blaine’s erection hit the back of his throat. 

“Fuck, Sam, please,” Blaine begged, crying out.

Sam guided Blaine in and out as he cupped the other man’s ass, letting him plunge deeper and deeper. Blaine tugged on Sam’s hair, indicating he was close to his release. Sam pulled off of Blaine’s cock with a _pop_ and began to stroke him, the head of his erection bumping and brushing against his lips. 

“S-Sam, I’m gonna, c-,” Blaine gasped, nearly toppling over onto Sam. 

“Do it,” Sam said, licking his lips and staring up at Blaine’s strained face. 

Blaine came with a shout, spilling onto Sam’s lips and chin, come dripping off of his face. Sam groaned, licking the jizz from his lips and cleft of his chin. 

“Shit,” Blaine murmured, trailing his fingers gently across Sam’s come-stained face, “you’re so hot, Sam.” He swiped his tongue along Sam’s cheek, savouring his own taste against his palate. Sam moaned, holding Blaine in his arms and peppering him with light kisses. 

“That was amazing, man,” Sam smiled, sated and content. He pulled back his sheets and slid under them, motioning for Blaine to join. 

Blaine frowned, feeling worn and still drunk. “I think I’m going to call a taxi to take me home. Thank you though, this was fun.” 

“Oh,” Sam said, sounding dejected, “that’s cool, dude. Lemme go get you like a number for a cab company or something.” He wrestled the sheets out of his way, standing up and placing his underwear back around his hips. 

“On second thought, maybe I’ll stay?” Blaine said, smiling weakly. Clearly Sam _wanted_ Blaine to stay the night, something so different than any other of his one time hookups. He crawled under the sheets, sighing softly when Sam pressed in behind him, wrapping his broad arms around Blaine’s chest. Blaine closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep and hoping that things would stop spinning. 

 

\---

 

His head was thumping, his mouth was dry, and he had the urge to throw up. Blaine grimaced at the sunlight streaming in through the foreign room, shining off of the full length mirror in the corner of the room. He rolled over, only discovering the bed was empty. Blaine yawned (and cringed when a sharp stab of pain radiated through his temples) and pulled his briefs over his hips. He put on his worn and rumpled clothes, pat down his hair as sufficiently as he could, and strode out of the room. Blaine could hear dishes clinking from his left, so he made his way down the hall to what he assumed was the kitchen. 

Standing at the stove was Sam, his blond hair sticking out in every which way and a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low and loose around his waist. Blaine cleared his throat and Sam turned around, broadly grinning. 

“Hey sleepyhead, how are you feeling?” he asked, chipper. It was evident that Sam wasn’t hungover and was very much a morning person. 

Blaine groaned, holding his face in his hands. “I feel like I’m going to die,” he said, voice raspy. He sat down at the tiny Ikea kitchen table for two and rest his head in his arms. “My head is pounding, stupid alcohol.” 

Sam laughed and poured a glass of water from the faucet. He set it next to Blaine and laid two aspirins next to the glass. “Take these and I’ll make you some breakfast. You eat eggs?” 

Nodding, Blaine swallowed both pills in one gulp. Sam smiled and kissed the top of his hair, pushing the loose curls behind his ears. Blaine watched as Sam busied himself at the stove, cracking eggs into a frying pan and placing slices of bread into the toaster. He felt sick watching him, partly from the alcohol and partly from guilt. He didn’t regret sleeping with Sam; kind, sweet, dorky Sam. But, Sam worked at that _place_ , and was this a normal occurrence for him, for him to take home random guys and fuck them into the mattress for hours on end? 

Blaine sighed, still holding his head. The smell of eggs and jam wafted from the dinner plate Sam had just set out in front of Blaine. He poured a steaming mug of coffee and placed a carton of milk and bowl of sugar in front. 

“Bon appetite,” Sam drawled, sitting down on the chair across from Blaine. He took a bite of toast and looked at Blaine expectantly. 

“Thank you, Sam, this smells delicious.” Blaine took a sip of coffee and sighed as the caffeine jolted his senses. “Do you normally make breakfast for your...gentleman callers?” 

Sam laughed, running his hands down his glass of orange juice. “I, like, almost never do this. I told you that last night, but you were probably too drunk to remember. I was pretty wasted too, but I have a sweet morning-after memory.” 

Blaine blushed, raising his eyebrows as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Sorry, I was pretty out of it. So, tell me about yourself. Are you truly only a stripper, because if you are,” he trailed off, looking down at his plate. 

“Well, it’s my job but it’s not my profession. I’m actually in grad school right now for graphic communication. I’m from Tennessee and my family wasn’t the most well off, so I needed to find a job that would put me through school,” Sam shrugged. “What about you, Blaine?” he asked, his mouth full of toast. 

“Oh, well, I work for a theatre company. I performed throughout high school, but I opted to go the financial route of the theatre business. I’m in accounting,” Blaine laughed, feeling embarrassed. “It’s boring, I know.” 

“No, no,” Sam reassured, cocking his head, “it sounds pretty cool, you still get to, like, be around show people and stuff. Very awesome.” He looked up at Blaine through his lashes and pulled his lip through his teeth. “Hey, I just wanted to say that I had a really fun time with you last night. Like, I don’t only mean the sex stuff because obviously that was great, but just talking to you at the bar and junk. I would really like to get to know you better, if that’d be okay? Are you free Wednesday because I have the night off and I’d love to take you to dinner or something?” 

“I,” Blaine stopped, looking deep into his mug of coffee as he swirled a spoon through the liquid. The thought of going out with Sam, in the general public, and risking someone recognizing him was panic inducing. Blaine was used to dating guys that were of the upper class, ones that prefered country clubs over strip clubs. 

But. 

Sam was just genuine, so naive and _real_. It was refreshing, being with someone who was so meticulously caring. Blaine smiled up at Sam, exhaling slowly. 

“Sure, I think I can swing it. I’ll meet you at eight?”

“Sweet, sounds great,” Sam grinned. He stood up, picking up his dishes to place in the dishwasher. He paused, kissing Blaine’s forehead before moving to the sink. “It’s a date.” 

 

\---

 

Blaine desperately needed coffee. It was 4 p.m. and his hangover was still in full effect. He walked to the nearest Starbucks and pushed open the door, wincing at the incessant chatter and music playing over the sound system. Blaine stood in line, waiting, when he heard a loud voice from the corner of the shop. 

“...And I was so drunk I don’t even remember anything except that Blaine was sucking the face of the hottest freakin’ stripper I’ve ever seen in my life. God, Finn, you should’ve been there.” 

Blaine turned to the direction of the voice and saw Kurt and his brother, Finn, huddled in the corner. Kurt was animatedly recounting the evening to Finn, who was staring mouth slack and eyes round. Blaine hid behind his hand when he heard a shout. 

“Blaine, dude, get your ass over here,” Finn hollered, waving his arm. Kurt just smirked that stupid, knowing smirk, motioning for Blaine to take the armchair next to him. 

Defeated, Blaine muttered under his breath and walked over, slinking onto the leather. “Okay. My head is still throbbing and I promise I will tell you everything if you guys don’t shout or make a fuss.” 

Kurt, with that smirk still plastered on his face, took a sip of his coffee. “I was just telling Finn about our dear friend Rachel’s bachelorette party last night. Finn was ever so disappointed he wasn’t there to witness your display, but alas, he isn’t best friends with Rachel like you and I, only my mere step-brother. Now, Blaine, I do think it would be best if you recount your ordeal to Finn himself?” 

Finn snickered, leaning back in his seat and placing his hands behind his head. “Spill it, dude.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” Blaine sneered. “I was sitting at the bar because strippers are not my thing when one dancer came up to me and started talking about my and Kurt’s presence there. He then hit on me, bought me drinks, and I went home with him.” 

“What’s his name?” Finn asked. 

“White Chocolate,” Kurt answered, matter of factually. 

Blaine scoffed as Finn burst out laughing. “Shut up, Kurt. His name is _Sam_ , Finn. And, he’s really sweet, okay? He made me breakfast and is in grad school, so whatever. Fuck you both,” he said, his words drowned out by Kurt and Finn’s howling laughter. 

Finn wiped a tear forming in the corner of his eye, coming down from his high. “Okay, I’m sorry, man. No yeah that’s totally nice of him to do that stuff for you. Are you going to see him again?” 

Blaine nodded. “We have a date Wednesday.” 

“Aww,” Kurt cooed, punching Blaine’s arm lightly, “looks like _someone_ is in love with a stripper,” he trilled, batting his eyelashes. He turned to the scowling Blaine and smiled sweetly. “Honestly, though, I’m happy for you. Are you okay with it all?” 

Blaine looked down at his hands, intent on inspecting his fingernails. He was okay with everything. Mostly. He peered at Kurt and Finn, who stared at him with perfectly arched eyebrows. 

“No, of course I am. Yes, I am,” Blaine answered, his voice cracking at the end. “Now _please_ let me get my coffee.” He stood up and raced towards the lineup, his breath catching in his chest and his palms sweating. 

 

\---

 

“Have you been here before?” Sam asked, holding out Blaine’s chair for him. Blaine accepted graciously and smoothed the cream, linen tablecloth in front of him as he sat down. 

“No, can’t say I have. I’ve always wanted to eat here, so I’m glad you suggested it.” The indian restaurant Sam had suggested was on Blaine’s list of restaurants he needed to eat at before he died (or moved, whichever came first), and was pleasantly surprised a guy from Tennessee would suggest such a place. 

“Awesome,” Sam smiled, looking down at the menu. “Anything you want in particular?” 

“Hmm,” Blaine said thoughtfully, “I’m always partial to chicken biryani. Yourself?” 

Sam ran his finger down the menu in search of his dish. “Butter chicken, obviously. So freakin’ delicious.” 

Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes at the other man, his excitement intoxicating. He closed the menu and reached across the table, offering his hand to Sam. Looking at his palm, Sam’s face broke out into an ear splitting grin as he hurriedly wrapped his fingers around Blaine’s. 

He was trying, he really was. After the whole day of weighing the pros and cons of dating Sam, Blaine realized he was being stuck up and just needed to _get over it_. His boyfriend was only a stripper, a man who was paid to take off his clothes for women. 

( _Oh, God_ ) 

Blaine frowned when he noticed two women at the table next to them staring and whispering behind their menus. “Do you think they have a problem with our hand holding? Should I speak with the manager?” Blaine sneered, glaring at the women. 

Sam turned to the table and let out a snicker. “No need, man, I know why they’re staring. You see the lady with the green sweater? I gave her a lap dance last night.” He leaned in, whispering in Blaine’s ear, “She _totally_ copped a feel on my junk, too.” 

Blaine felt his heart race in his chest. This is exactly what he feared, Sam being recognized in public. He cleared his throat. “Well, at least she didn’t get the full effect, if you know what I mean.” 

“Uh, I really don’t?” Sam said, scrunching his nose. 

“I just mean, you’re gay. So, it’s not like she would get...the full effect, you know. Of an erection,” Blaine coughed, feeling a blush creep on his cheeks. 

Sam laughed, again. “What are you talking about? I’m not gay. I’m bi, I date girls too. So, technically she _could_ get something out of it,” Sam teased, wagging his eyebrows before taking a sip of water. 

“Oh.” The colour from Blaine’s face drained as he licked his chapped lips. This was worse than anticipated. Sam could actually be...aroused from his everyday job. He probably _was_ turned on, grinding on women every night. 

Blaine kept his grip firm around Sam, his other hand drumming his fingers against the table. He bounced his leg wondering just how he got tangled in this situation and where the _fuck_ was his biryani? 

 

\---

 

Thursday morning, Blaine met Rachel at a local florist to pick up her order of wedding flowers. He held the boxes of corsages and boutonnieres as Rachel delicately cradled her bouquet in her arms. 

“Aren’t these gorgeous?” Rachel cried, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the lilies. She held the bouquet under Blaine’s nose, shaking it softly until he conceded and took a sniff. 

“Yes, of course they are, you picked them out,” Blaine drawled, balancing the boxes in his hand. He listened to Rachel chat excitedly about last minute wedding preparations when she smacked his shoulder. 

“Oh, you will never guess who’s coming to my wedding? Your boyfriend!” Rachel’s eyes glinted as she flashed him a blindingly white smile. 

Blaine’s heart began to race in his chest. “Wait, Sam is going to the wedding? How is this possible?” he frowned. 

“Geez, don’t look too upset, Blaine. Well, Jesse’s cousin-in-law had not RSVP-ed yet, which frankly, is quite rude seeing as the wedding is in two days, but she finally accepted and is bringing a date. When I asked Jesse who it was, he told me she was bringing a friend from college named Sam Evans, which is your boyfriend’s name, right?” 

Blaine nodded, stiffly. 

Rachel grinned and continued. “Good, my suspicions were correct. But in any case, I then prodded Jesse to ask her for information regarding this Sam Evans, and I found out he has a beautiful body, blond hair, and is studying graphic communication _which_ sounds an awful lot like your leading man!” She squealed and grabbed his upper arm. “This is going to be so perfect, Blaine. You have a date to my wedding!” 

“Yeah,” Blaine trailed off, looking down at his feet. Rachel pursed her lips and let out a huff. 

“Why aren’t you excited about this? Blaine Anderson, do _not_ lie to me.” She stopped on the sidewalk, crossing her arms against her chest and tapping her foot on the pavement. 

Groaning, Blaine looked at her sadly. “I really like Sam. He’s nice and funny and nerdy in a charming way. But, last night, we were on a date and these women _recognized him_ from work and it was embarrassing. Then, he told me he dates women too, so now I don’t know.” He let out a slow breath, his chest sinking. “How can I be with him if I’m in a constant state of jealousy, wondering just how much he enjoys what he does?” 

“Blaine,” Rachel whined, pushing herself on her tiptoes to kiss Blaine’s cheek, “you need to protect your heart. Sam seems genuine and I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you, but you have to look after yourself first. You’ll forget all about it at the wedding, I’m sure. The two of you will have so much fun, you’ll be planning your own nuptials in no time.” 

“You’re the best, Rachel,” Blaine smiled softly. “I hope you’re right.” 

 

\---

 

Pale twinkle lights shone throughout the garden, sparkling against the crystal waters of a pond in the middle of the park. Blaine stood at the altar, sandwiched between Kurt and Jesse’s older brother. He looked across the aisle and smiled at Rachel’s bridesmaids, looking gorgeous in their shell pink dresses. Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Quinn were chatting amongst themselves, engaging in conversation with a short woman with long, black hair streaked blonde. Jesse stood at the head of the altar, breathing short steady breaths. Blaine looked up at the sky, the crescent moon high, emitting a warm, yellow glow. He could see Sam waving from the audience, so he smiled back politely. 

Violin music filled the park as Rachel approached the aisle accompanied by her fathers. She looked absolutely _breathtaking_ , enough that Kurt grabbed Blaine’s arm, gasping. 

“I’m surprised she cleaned up so nicely without my help,” Kurt murmured from the corner of his mouth. Blaine swatted his arm and beamed as his best friend walked down the aisle. 

Jesse met Rachel’s fathers and offered her his hand. She graciously accepted and the two stepped up to the altar. After Jesse and Rachel recited their own vows (full of quotes from musicals, metaphors alluding to _Funny Girl_ , and the like), they kissed as they were officially pronounced husband and wife. The bridal party erupted into a fit of cheers and claps, Blaine jumping up and down and whooping loudly. Rachel and Jesse paraded down the aisle to a chorus of applause -- something to which they were both very accustomed. The bridal party followed, heading to the garden for photographs. 

Later in the evening once the dinner had been served and speeches had been made, music filled the tented off dance floor. Jesse spun Rachel onto the dance floor, her white gown flowing and ruffling. Couples began to partner up, all heading to dance. Blaine felt a tap on his shoulder and he stared up into the face of the black haired bridesmaid. 

“You’re Blaine, right? Rachel’s best friend?” she asked. 

“I’m one of them, yes. You must be...Tina? The girl who canceled on Rachel’s bachelorette party?” 

Tina nodded, smiling. “Shame I missed it, I heard it was quite the riot. Do you wanna dance with me, everyone else I know is paired off.” She pointed to the floor where Brittany and Santana were making out amongst the sea of dancers while Quinn and Mercedes were pulling off moves that had not seen the light of day for decades. 

Blaine stuck out his hand. “Ladies first.” He guided her to the middle and wrapped one arm around her waist, moving her in small circles. 

“Are you here with someone?” she asked. 

Blaine swallowed and flitted his eyes to his left where Sam was twirling Kurt in a grotesquely exaggerated manner. “That blond over there is my boyfriend,” Blaine said, nodding his head towards him. 

Tina gasped and clutched Blaine’s hand tighter. “Wow, congratulations, that guy is totally built. Tell me _everything_ about him,” she smiled, cheekily. 

Blaine huffed out a laugh. “His name is Sam, he’s in grad school, he likes geeky things, and he will charm his way into your pants in a matter of seconds.” 

“Sounds hot, I like it. How’d you guys meet?” Tina raised an eyebrow and winked. 

“We, uh,” Blaine hesitated. “through Rachel. We met through Rachel.” 

Technically he _hadn’t_ lied. 

Tina cooed, closing her eyes. “How adorable. I’m incredibly envious, Blaine. I hope I can find love like that someday.” 

“You should ask Rachel,” Blaine joked, dipping her at her waist. 

The song ended and couple broke apart, waiting for the next tune to begin. Blaine felt two bodies approach behind him, so he spun around to see Kurt and Sam standing there, twin grins on their faces. 

“Mind if we cut in?” Kurt asked. He held his hand out for Tina, who waggled her eyebrows and let herself be led off. 

Sam pulled Blaine’s body against his as a slow song sounded from the band. 

“Hey handsome,” Sam whispered, running his hand down Blaine’s back, “your speech was totally awesome. I don’t even know Rachel or Jesse, but I felt super moved.” 

“Aw, thank you,” Blaine laughed. He leaned up and softly pressed his lips against Sam’s. Sam smiled into the kiss and rest his forehead on Blaine’s. 

“I’m really happy,” Sam whispered, his lips crooking into a smile. “Like, I’m super happy being with you.” 

Blaine felt a stab in his chest, his stomach tightening with butterflies. He placed another kiss on Sam’s mouth. “I am too,” he said against his lips in such a genuine voice. It was true, though. Being with Sam, finally having someone that was so perfect, felt otherworldly. They danced together for the entire evening, stealing kisses every so often. After their fourth consecutive dance together, Blaine felt himself being hauled backward. 

“Hey, lovebirds, quit macking on the dance floor. The bride requires your assistance in getting herself good and drunk.” Santana snapped her fingers in front of Blaine’s face and dragged him by the wrist to the bar. Rachel sat up from a stool when Santana, Blaine, and Sam approached. 

“You’re just in time! Here, here, here,” she said, passing out shot glasses to the three. “Cheers to me!” She cried, knocking back the shot in one fell swoop. The bridal party followed her lead, downing shot upon shot. 

After their fifth drink, Santana pulled Sam next to her and pushed him to the floor. “Hows about we liven up this party with some free entertainment? Sammy Evans, work your white chocolate magic for the crowd.” 

Blaine gasped, charging after Sam. “Oh, no, no, no. That’s not necessary. Sweetie, you don’t need to do this.” He gripped Sam’s forearm, leading him back to the bar. 

Sam crinkled his nose, pushing Blaine off. “It’s alright, babe, I don’t mind. Hey, drummer dude, play me a beat!” 

The crowd began cheering as Sam stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it to a nearby chair. Fuming, Blaine headed back to the bar and ordered his favourite drink: double gin and tonic. In under ten minutes, he had consumed three beverages, glowering as sudden fits of catcalls filled the tent. 

“You okay, man?”

A hand clapped on Blaine’s shoulder and he peered at Jesse, who was taking a seat next to him. 

Blaine grumbled, swirling his glass in his hands. He turned back to the dance floor, scoffing at Sam letting Tina run her palms along Sam’s toned chest. 

“I hate him when he’s like this, just letting women feel him up and taking off his _clothes_ in front of everyone like it’s no big deal.” He took a swig of his drink, slamming the glass on the counter. “I mean, it’s so beneath him. It’s beneath _me_. It goes against everything I stand for, Jesse,” Blaine slurred, sighing. 

Jesse hummed thoughtfully and leaned against the bar, his elbows propped on the counter. “If my behaviour was hurting the ones I loved most, I would like to know about it. You owe it to Sam to tell him how you truly feel. He deserves to know.” 

“I know,” Blaine muttered. He waited until the song ended and Sam’s clothing returned to his body before Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him from under the tent towards the garden. 

“Whoa, is everything okay?” Sam asked, hastily fitting his tie around his neck. “Have you been drinking?” 

“Yes,” Blaine admitted, “but it doesn’t change the way I feel. Sam, you’re too good to strip. When I think of strippers, I think of cheap drug addicts who have no futures, so desperate for money that they need to sell their bodies. You are nothing like them, so please, _please_ stop.” 

Sam looked at Blaine with wounded eyes. He placed his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, stabilizing him. “Look, I’m good at what I do. Sure, it’s not ideal but they treat me right at Remington’s and strip clubs aren’t as seedy as you think. Blaine, you’re being ridiculous and I really don’t like how you’re talking to me right now.” 

Blaine scoffed, laughing cruelly. “Of course you don’t. You don’t see it, Sam. You think everything is okay, that I'm okay. But, guess what? I'm not. Your _profession_ goes against everything that I believe in, everything I stand for. But sure, you keep telling yourself that, whatever it takes for you to sleep at night.” 

“Okay, you know what Blaine?” Sam said loudly, his voice cracking and icy, “Call me when you stop being such a dick. I don’t need this from you, my boyfriend.” He stalked off towards the tent, not looking back. Blaine cried out in frustration and stamped down the pathway to the parking lot. He fished out his cell phone and called a taxi company and sat on the curb waiting for them to pick him up. 

He fiddled with his phone, muttering under his breath. At least _he_ didn’t have to take off his clothes in order for people to like him. Fuck that. 

 

\---

 

**_Blaine:_ ** _hey, can you please call me back, i've tried about 100 times this week and you told me to call you when i stopped "being a dick" so answer me._

**_Blaine:_ ** _this isn't funny, call me. please sam._

**_Blaine:_** _i miss you._

 

\---

 

_Beep._

_”Believe it or not Sam isn’t at home, please leave a message at the beep! I mus--”_

_Click._

Blaine hung up the phone and threw it onto his desk. He curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow between his knees. This was the twenty-third phone call Blaine had placed in a week that Sam hadn’t answered. He stood up, raced across his room, and grabbed the phone again, his fingers flying across the keys. 

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Beep._

_”Believe it or not Sam isn’t at home, please leave a message at the beep! I mus--”_

Twenty-four. 

 

\---

 

“Blaine, come on, let’s go get some fresh air. I’ll let you borrow the gold card given to me by Vogue,” Kurt said over the phone in a sing-song voice. 

Blaine shut his eyes, burying his head under his pillow. He was still in his pajamas, having not changed for three days. “I’m going to hang up now.” 

He heard Kurt gasp from the other line. “Don’t you dare hang up on me you stupid fu--”

_Click._

 

\---

 

“Blainey, open up!” Rachel said, her voice trilling from behind the door. She pounded her fist lightly against the wood. “You haven’t seen me in a whole _month_ and I don’t appreciate being kept waiting!” 

“Fuck,” Blaine shouted. He roused himself from his bed, his tattered pajama set completing his disheveled and worn look. His hair, free of any hair product, bounced with unruly curls as he opened the door. Rachel jumped into his arms, embracing him firmly. 

“You look awful, Blaine. Don’t tell me you’ve been wallowing in self pity for an entire month while Jesse whisked me away to every production on West End.” 

“That is exactly what I’ve been doing,” Blaine muttered, hugging Rachel back. It was soothing; comforting. 

Rachel pouted, pushing his curls behind his ear. “Come, let’s sit you down and you can pour your heart out to me.” 

Blaine led her to the couch and flopped down, Rachel taking up the space in the vee of his legs. She pulled his arm around her chest and sighed contently. 

“Start from the beginning,” she coaxed. 

Blaine ran his hand through his hair. “I got really drunk at your wedding and was upset Sam was just freely stripping in front of everyone. Throughout the course of our three week relationship, I just couldn’t accept that _this_ is what he chose to do. It’s just degrading.” 

“Blaine,” Rachel said firmly, “that isn’t right. I know I told you to protect yourself, but listen to what you just said. You knew that this was only a temporary solution for him, that he wasn’t going to work there as a career. Besides, it’s not like he sleeps with any of his customers other than you. Sam may be bi and dances on women, but he’s dating _you_ and he’s in love with _you_. He’s a really good guy and I think you were being a bit unfair.” 

“I know this _now_ ,” Blaine cried, hugging Rachel against his chest, “I know all of this. I was so fucking stupid and now he won’t call me or text me. I ruined everything.” He pressed his cheek against the top of Rachel’s hair. “Do you know what it’s like, to think you could be so in love with someone and knowing that they never want you back? That they’ll never _love_ you back? I was happy with him, Sam Evans the dorky grad student. So happy.” 

Rachel whimpered, curling her body against his. “It’s not too late, you can make him fall in love with you again. Clean yourself up, buy him some flowers, and go to his school. I know you know his schedule, so meet him outside one of his classes. Profess your love for him in front of everyone and he’s bound to take you back. You want to be with him again, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Blaine said softly. 

 

\---

 

 _Sally Hart Wing, West Side, Room 498_. 

Blaine dashed across Sam’s campus, dodging students and professors as he crossed the quad to the Sally Hart Wing of the graphics communication building. In his hand was a bouquet of roses, their petals bending in the breeze. He climbed the marble steps to the hall when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar blond head exiting through the doors. 

“Sam!” Blaine shouted, waving the flowers over his head, “Sam, over here!” His breathing became more ragged, overcome with nerves, anxiety and pure adrenaline. 

Sam, obvious to Blaine’s calling, jogged down the stairs. Blaine noticed that stupidly cute, ear-to-ear grin plastered on Sam’s face and felt his stomach tighten in response. He rushed after Sam and was just about to catch up when a girl tackled Sam from the side in a hug. Blaine held back as Sam shouted out in surprise, laughing as he picked up the girl in his arms. 

“No,” Blaine hissed as Sam twirled her around and crashed their mouths together. The girl laced her fingers through Sam’s hair and locked her ankles around his back. 

Blaine felt tears stinging his eyes when the girl pulled back and Blaine _recognized her_. It was Tina, Rachel’s friend from the theatre, the bridesmaid he danced with. Blaine felt his chest constricting as if it was caving in. The world around him began to spin as blood pounded in his ears and his stomach rolled. 

He tossed the flowers into a nearby garbage can and sat on a bench outside the building. Blaine remembered Tina saying she _wished_ she would find a love like the one shared between Blaine and Sam. He laughed bitterly, sticking out his lip in indignation. 

_She sure found it alright_. 

Blaine rest his head in his hands, bending his body in half. He felt so sick. From his pocket, he could feel his phone vibrate, jarring him from his thoughts. Blaine pulled it from his jeans and let the tears forming in his eyes roll down his cheek once he read the message. 

**_Rachel_ ** _: “How did it go, are you two lovebirds back together? :) <333”_

He hit delete and dropped his phone next to him on the bench. Fuck everything. 

 

\---

 

 _“Sometimes I feel like it isn’t going to happen to me.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Crave You" by Flight Facilities.


End file.
